


Strange Love - An Eobard x Reader fic

by Eobeth



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Reader-Insert, Secret Admirer, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:56:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5374400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eobeth/pseuds/Eobeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader (female), is a previous member of STAR labs back from secondment, unaware of what has been happening in Central city. Given a new role working with the Flash team, you find yourself being drawn to your boss, Dr Wells. But who was the speedster that saved you from that car crash? And why do you keep finding yellow roses on your doorstep? As things become clearer everything just gets more complicated. </p><p>This is a multi-chapter EobardxReader fic with a long storyline, various types of smut and some drama. Kind of an alternative universe cause the Reader as a character obviously changes things from the TV show.<br/>For reference Y/N is your name, and Y/LN is your last name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

You’d heard rumours but returning to STAR labs only confused you more. The lights were out and all the levels were deserted. Your pass card still worked and so you took the elevator down, hoping to find some signs of life. Perhaps there were people repairing the damage from the particle accelerator down there? You reach level 600 and step out. At least the lights here were actually on. As you walk down the hall you can hear voices. You breathe a sigh of relief, putting on a smile and quickening your pace.

“Uh, hello?” you say as you enter the cortex.

You spot Caitlin and Cisco, colleagues that you recognise but never really worked with, at least not closely. Both of them turn to look at you, looking surprised.

“Hey, its Y/N isn’t it?” Cisco asks, vaguely remembering you.

You nod affirmative.

“No offence but what exactly are you doing here? No one works here anymore,” Caitlin states.

“You both seem to be working,” you smile, slightly awkward as you have no idea what’s going on.

“Ah, Miss Y/LN, you have returned I see,” comes the familiar voice of Dr Harrison Wells from behind you.

You turn round and your eyes widen. When you left Dr Wells hadn’t been in that wheel chair, “Dr Wells?” you utter, not sure what to say, then composing yourself; “Yes, I’m back from my research placement in London. What happened here? I caught some of the news but I came straight here. I haven’t had a chance to catch up yet,”

Dr Wells nods, thinking for a moment. “In that case, if you follow me, I’ll bring you up to speed,” he says, wheeling towards an empty office.

You follow, wondering what happened and how to approach the obvious questions. You are curious as to why you are still being paid by STAR labs if the place has closed down. You were investigating the uses of micro technologies, specialising in nanites before a lab in London offered collaboration and some world leading technology. It was too good to resist and Dr Wells was happy to let you go on secondment for a year. But now you were back and everything had changed.

You reach his office and take the seat that he offers you with a gesture. You spend the next hour listening to Dr Wells as he explains everything that has happened. About how the particle accelerator exploded, about the legal stuff, how the labs have been closed, how everyone left and how meta-humans now exist.

“So, does that mean I’m fired?” you ask, unsure where you stand.

Dr Wells gives a small amused smile, “We do a very comprehensive redundancy package. Your C.V. is very impressive Miss Y/LN, I’m sure that any lab would be happy to have you. I would be glad to provide a reference.”

You blush slightly flattered by his compliments, however the problem is that you don’t really want to leave. “And what if I want to stay, like Cisco and Caitlin?” you ask.

Dr Wells tilts his head as if he is considering something. “Cisco and Caitlin are aiding me in rebuilding the reputation of the lab by helping the police with any criminal meta-humans,” he started.

“I could help with that. If meta-humans are a result of altered DNA then that is in my field of research. I was looking at how to utilize nanites in gene therapy,” you remind him, sure you’d be useful. This lab had been your home ever since they’d offered to fund your PhD research all those years ago. You were reluctant to let it go, especially if there was a chance to get it back up and running. To put it simply, you wanted to give something back to the man who had so believed in you and your talents.

“There are so many opportunities out there for a mind such as yours Miss Y/LN. I wouldn’t want to… tarnish your career with my current reputation,” he replies, studying you with those piercing blue eyes as he waits for your response.

You meet his eyes and then nod, sighing. You stand up and put your hands on the back of the chair, “Thank you, for everything, Dr Wells. And you are right, I could work anywhere and I will go if you can’t find use for me. But, just so you know, I would have gone down with this ship,” you reply, turning to leave.

You get to the door when you hear a single word, “Wait.”

You stop, a glimmer of hope flickering in your chest, though also wondering if perhaps he just need you to sign something.

You turn round, “Yes?” you question

Dr Wells has his elbows rested on the table, his fingers peaked together as if he’s thinking.

“I might have a project for you, however I need to discuss your participation with others as it would be collaborative. I will send you some details later today, if you are still willing?” he asks.

You can’t help but smile, realising that he pretty much just made up a role for you, “Thank you Dr Wells, that would be great.”

“In that case I hope to hear from you soon Miss Y/LN,” he smiles, watching as you leave.


	2. Coming home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You put your genius to the task set by Dr Wells, hoping that you are right.
> 
> (This chapter is mainly scene setting but is necessary for story telling)

The journey home gives you enough time to think and clear your head. You can hardly believe what has happened to the lab, to Dr Wells. You shake your head as you think of his situation, not only disabled from the explosion but also now hated by the public, responsible for so many deaths. You think that it’s a shame as the work done by his lab had saved so many over the years and done so much for the city. You are glad that he hasn’t given up though.

You’d always enjoyed working for Dr Wells. You wouldn’t see him too often but once every couple of weeks he would come round to your lab to catch up on your work. He’d always been so interested in your research, never turning down a research proposal or application for funding. You’d quite enjoyed explaining everything to him, you’d even done so over coffee once, though that was more due to bumping into each other at Jitters before the meeting and then deciding to hold it there. You find yourself smiling at the memories, almost willing to admit to yourself that you may have had a little crush. If he hadn’t been your boss, you might have asked him out, but work always came first.

Anyway, you shake those thoughts from your head and think about the here and now. The idea of working with the unknown that is meta-human DNA excites your professional curiosity and you hope that you’ll get approval from whoever the other collaborators are. After all there aren’t many others who are experts in your field, and none of them had looked at meta-humans yet. You check your phone for emails but find nothing, but that’s ok, you can wait.

You’d actually gone straight to the lab from the train as you’d had most of your luggage shipped back last week. You wanted to get home, check everything had arrived and that the place was still in one piece. You are glad to get home even if it now smells strange. You’d really loved your apartment, so cosy and set up exactly as you’d liked it. And it was for those reasons that when you left for London you were happy to rent it out to a friend’s younger sister. She’d been in her last year of university and so only needed it for a year anyway. She’d left last week and even though she’d cleaned up, the place now smelt unfamiliar.

You walk through the place, checking everything, finding a thank you card on the kitchenette counter. You smile, warmed by her nice words and then continue to look around. The stuff that had been shipped home and all of the personal things you’d boxed up before you left were in the study waiting for you. It didn’t take you long to open all the windows and start rearranging the place back to the way you like it.

Once done you open up your laptop as you settle on the couch. You know that you should probably go out and get some food supplies but you can order take-out for tonight at least. You had just finished ordering when an email arrives. You feel you heart skip a beat as you see it’s from Dr Wells but tell yourself that you are just excited to be working on something new. You open the email and are surprised at its brevity;

_'Dear Miss Y/LN,_

_Please click the link below, analyse the content and report back._

_Harrison,'_

Harrison? You repeat his name to yourself. He was your boss for years, you’d even played chess together on occasion, but he’d never signed his emails Harrison before. Usually it was Dr Wells, followed by accolades and business information. You shrug, reasoning that perhaps with the downfall of the business things had become more casual.

You decide to get to the task in hand, and so click the link. It brings up a well constructed blog. It seems to be documenting the appearance of a super hero called the Flash, obviously one of the meta-humans that you’d been told about. You spend the next hour reading the articles and watching the various video clips. Most of them have been filmed on phones, however some had amazing quality, the advantage of modern technology. You do a quick search to see if there are other similar blogs. There are but none have the level of information that this one does.

Once you’d been through everything you lean back, briefly stretching and finally resting your hands behind your head as you think. Why would Dr Wells want you to look at this? There must be something, some insight he thinks you can give and you don’t want to disappoint. You close your eyes, trying to think. Your mind ticks over, putting together ideas and theories, still not sure exactly what it is that he wants you to report on. You give a sigh and lower your hands to the keyboard, ready to type out your thoughts.

_'Dear Dr Wells,_

_Thank you for the link. I have looked over the material and come to the following conclusions;_

  1. _Based on what you told me, the Flash is obviously a meta-human._
  2. _Moving at that sort of speed should cause friction and heat thus the costume he wears would have to protect from these. Even if he was intelligent enough to know how to create such a costume, he would need money and resources to be able to make it. It seems unlikely that one person alone would have the materials and machinery available be able to do that. It’s far more likely that he’d have access if he worked for STAR or Mercury labs as they are the only local places with the technology available to create such a thing._
  3. _He’d need to eat a lot due to a heightened metabolism and would suffer from various metabolic issues. He’d need a doctor to be able to monitor and aid him in this._
  4. _He’s the only meta-human who is trying to be a hero. I’ve read that others have chosen to be criminals. Thus I can conclude that either he feels responsible for the criminal meta-humans and thus works for you at STAR, or he was already in a heroic role, such as a policeman or fireman, maybe ex-military?_
  5. _Knowing the author would be useful as they seem to get scoops and interviews that the many other Flash websites don’t. Seems suspicious and worthy of further investigation_



_In conclusion, I theorize that either you want to know the Flash’s identity, though this seems unlikely cause surely the lab satellite could be used to track anything moving at that speed across the city, or you already know and are aiding him. Would explain why the lab is open and you’ve kept both a tech genius and a doctor on your team._

_I hope that this is alright._

_Y/N.'_

You read and reread the message, hoping that you haven’t been too presumptuous or gotten the wrong end of the stick. Deciding that there is nothing else you can do you hit the send button. You are about to relax when the doorbell goes and makes you jump. Remembering that you ordered take out you go to open the door. The rest of the evening goes well. Food was good in that way that only take out can be. You check your emails, finding nothing and so have a bath and eventually retire to bed.


	3. Back to work

You are woken up to the melodic ringing of your phone. Struggling against the bed sheets you reach out, luckily realise it’s a call and not just an alarm and put the device to your ear.

“Hello?” you say groggily.

“Miss Y/LN? I hope that I am not disturbing you,” comes the familiar voice of Dr Wells.

You immediately sit up, trying to shake the sleep out of your head, “No, not at all. Did you get my email?”

“I did. Insightful work, I see that you haven’t lost your edge. I’d like to talk to you about it in person, as soon as possible,” Dr Wells replies.

“Of course, I’ll be right there,” you say before hanging up.

You put your phone down and stretch out, enjoying the feeling. Although you’d have liked another few hours of sleep, you really didn’t mind being woken up this way. You’re glad that your work was up to scratch. Working at STAR labs had always been a precision job, demanding that you were exacting but that appealed to your perfectionist nature. If a job was worth doing then it was worth doing right.

You get up and go to the kitchen, seeking out the caffeine that will start your morning right. Once the coffee machine is on you go for a shower. The warm water feels great, washing the sleep from your limbs and mind. You try and enjoy it, pushing out the already intruding thoughts about work. You know that there is nothing certain yet, you don’t even know what it is you’ll be doing so there is no need to speculate. You concentrate on the feeling of the water instead, on how nice it is to be back home after so long away. Once finished you wrap yourself in a towel, your hair as well and then go to pick out an outfit. You don’t know if you are going to be interviewed for this new role and so air on the side of caution, picking out something a little more smart than casual.

Once dressed and prepped you go to finally get your coffee. You pour yourself a mug and the rest into a flask to take with you. You look to see what there is in the cupboards to eat and find some pop-tarts left by your previous lodger. You smile as you put them in the toaster, you haven’t eaten these in years. At least you won’t have to worry about energy today.

Finally ready you head out to the lab. You take public transport today, not having had time to check on your motorcycle yet. You love that bike. It’s a sleek black Kawasaki Ninja 300. You’d only had it a couple of years but it was so good for getting round the city. Not to mention the speed, that wonderful feeling of going fast that you just didn’t get at the same speed in a car. Unfortunately it makes the bus you are on seem really slow by comparison. The bus drops you near to the lab and you walk the rest of the way.

You let yourself into STAR labs, your pass card still working. You walk towards the elevator only to find Dr Wells waiting there for you. You worry for a moment that perhaps you have made him wait but all your thoughts are derailed when he looks up and smiles at you.

“Morning Dr Wells,” you manage to say, smiling back.

“Miss Y/LN,” he nods in greeting. “I’m glad you made it here so promptly. I’d like to talk to you about the position before you meet the team. Just so you understand what is expected. Nothing beyond your abilities, I can assure you.”

“Thank you that sounds good. Please, go on,” you say eager to know what this new project is.

“Your assumptions were correct, we are working with the Flash. As he apprehends criminal meta-humans we keep them contained here as the police department is not yet equipped to deal with their abilities. However, with our little team concentrating on aiding the Flash in his endeavours we have very little time to dedicate to the mysteries of meta-human genetics. With your background in the use of nanites for DNA manipulation, I believe that you could help us in unlocking some of those mysteries,” Dr Wells explains, making it sound oh so inviting.

“I should be able to use nanites to log the mutations on a molecular level and use that data to explore either repairing or replicating their DNA. It would be a lengthy process as so far besides the explosion I can see no connecting factor between who was affected and who wasn’t. Unless you have data on that?” you ask, curious as to why some people had become metas and others not.

“That, is another thing I would like you to find out. I want you to isolate any factors attributing to the mutation and its effects. The Flash not only has super speed but his heightened metabolic rate allows for fast regenerative abilities. If you could isolate that, we could change the face of modern medicine,” he says, words full of promise.

You feel quite giddy at the idea of working on world changing research. So exciting and yet also full of responsibility. “Wouldn’t we need ethical approval and consent for gathering and use of samples?” you ask knowing that there was always a load of paperwork and a lead in time before any research could actually get started.

“Already taken care of. I’ll send you a copy of the file once you are set up. So I take it this means you are on board Miss Y/LN?” he asks, looking at you over his glasses.

You can’t help but smile, the whole thing is just so exciting. “Yes. Where do I sign?” you reply, trying to hold back just how excited you feel. Retaining a level of professional cool right now seems to have escaped you but at least he’d know you were keen.

“Good. Shall we go meet the team?”

You nod affirmative and he presses the button for the elevator. You wait for the elevator and then enter it in silence but mainly because your mind is full of science. It is racing at the possibilities, from what you might discover to how you are actually going to go about it. You programme nanites in your mind’s eye, reams of code appearing out of the blackness. An odd sensation brings you back from your thoughts as you realise that Dr Wells is watching you. He isn’t staring so much as studying you.

You catch his eye, “Sorry, lost myself in thought for a moment there. Planning already,” you say with a smile.

“Your passion for your research, the enthusiasm and energy you put into tackling any problem you’re given is one of the reasons I originally hired you Miss Y/LN. You were, are an asset to this lab, to me,” he compliments you, holding your gaze.

You don’t know what to say, sure you’re blushing but manage to stutter out a “Thank you.”

The elevator doors open distracting you and allowing you to recompose yourself. You take a deep breath and follow after Dr Wells as he leads the way. Eventually he turns into a large, well lit room.

“This is the Cortex and this is the team. I believe that you have already met Cisco Ramon and Dr Caitlin Snow,” he says, gesturing to the two previous colleagues you recognise and then to a young man that you don’t. “And this, this is Barry Allen, the Flash.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you say, putting out your hand for Barry to shake as he approaches you.

He smiles an adorable, friendly smile as he takes it, “Welcome to the team,”

“Thanks, I look forward to working with you,” you reply, then looking around to the other two, “All of you.”

“It’ll be nice to have another woman around the place,” Caitlin says, coming over to greet you as well.

“I’d love to see what biodata you’ve already gathered, if that’s ok?” you ask her, knowing that your disciplines feed into each other as your sciences are both medical in nature.

“Sure, sure, I’ll send you the profiles I’ve created so far,” she agrees, going to her computer to do so.

“Hey, so I set up your work room. If anything isn’t working just ask and I’ll sort it,” Cisco offers, “I can show you what I’ve done, most of your lab was boxed up anyway so it was just a case of unpacking,”

“Don’t worry about that Cisco, I’ll show her to her new lab,” Dr Wells interrupts, gesturing for you to follow him.

You are led to a side room. It is a good sized room for a lab, all your equipment has been arranged sensibly and a workstation set up for you. You wander through, checking that there would be everything you need. You spot that there are samples already stored. You’ll check that all the machinery is correctly calibrated later but for now you just want to settle in, read the data files. You turn round, facing Dr Wells who is sat in the doorway.

“Everything is perfect,” you say with a contented sigh.

“Good. This room is yours, if you need anything just ask. Your contract is there,” he says pointing to the paperwork on the side. He continues to talk as you go over to inspect and sign it, “Your pass card, email and files have been reinstated. You’ll notice that we don’t have the same perks to the job that we used to however you’ve got no contracted hours, so you may come and go as you please. We’ve also relaxed the policy on food in the lab, I trust my few employees to know what is appropriate. And don’t feel like you need to be locked away in here Miss Y/LN. You are a part of the team and welcome to work from the Cortex as well, whatever suits you.”

You nod as you listen, reading through the contract, taking note of the important bits about researcher rights and publishing conditions. Once you are satisfied you sign it.

“Here, all signed,” you say as you pass the forms to your boss.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in. It’s good to have you back Y/N,” he says warmly as he turns his chair to leave you in peace.

With a huge contented smile you almost fall into your chair, taking a moment to relax and take in everything that has happened before you start to busy yourself with setting things up.


	4. Adventure time

The next couple of weeks are a delight. It only took you a day to get your lab set up properly. It took the rest of the week to read through all the data that Caitlin had already collected. It was fascinating stuff and you knew that you’d need a good written proposal for your research before you actually got started. Even though STAR labs wasn’t what it had been before, you didn’t see that as a reason for sloppy work. If this work was ever to be published or used in any way then it needed to be robust, not following procedures could mean it was seen as unfit and dismissed. And so you filled out all of the required paperwork and that kept you busy for yet another week.

But work isn’t the only thing keeping you busy. The free working hours allow you to turn up later, after you’ve managed to actually get breakfast and wake up. Plus you avoid the morning rush hours, which makes riding your motorcycle far more enjoyable. You stay late pretty much every night and this in itself has led to a more active social life. Every so often Cisco sets up a movie night in the Cortex, Caitlin drags everyone to her favourite bar for karaoke or Barry holds a pizza and games night at his. All things that you’d probably miss out on if you clocked out at 5pm.

The one thing that you do notice is that except for movie night, Dr Wells never joins in. You’ve tried inviting him out, even just out to lunch when everyone was going out to Big Belly Burger, but he still politely declined. Caitlin had told you not to worry, that she had tried for months to get him to come out with them but it was no use. Since the explosion he’s been a shut in, only going from work to home and back again. You take Caitlin’s advice, glad to know that she’s tried too, but you still think it’s a shame.

It isn’t long till you get a taste of the reality of working with a superhero. Barry arrives back at the lab, his speed drained after fighting a meta. You want to help but aren’t sure that you can. You offer but are just told to take samples to analyse. Cisco and Caitlin seem to be handling everything and even Dr Wells is being particularly prickly so you stay out of the way, continuing your work. If they need you, they know where you are.

When the power goes out the first thing you do is curse that you’ve probably just lost the data you were working on. Then remembering that there is a dangerous metahuman out there looking for revenge you lock the door. You realise that despite having been there a few weeks you still don’t have anyone’s mobile number. Your phone does have internet however so perhaps you could send an email. No signal, so perhaps this isn’t just the building but a city wide blackout. You swallow hard, realising that that much power would make Farooq, the meta, extremely powerful. Sighing, sitting there in the dark you lean back in your chair praying that everyone is alright. You could go out and look for people but that tends to get people killed in films. You figure that if you wait it out either one of the team will come to find you or the police.

After a while the lights flicker back on and you figure that someone must have gotten the generator working at least. You get up and very quietly unlock your door. Carefully you open it just a crack, listening for any noise outside. Nothing, except for the sound of your heart hammering in your chest. Being safe in your lab was one thing, but being out here, in the open with the possibility of running into Farooq, a meta known for melting a person to death, is just plain scary. You stick your head out into the corridor and look round, keeping a firm grip on the door handle, ready to close it at any moment. All seems clear. You start to pad very softly towards the nearest exit staircase, not trusting the lift to function in these circumstances. You are glad that you always wear sensible flat shoes as the clicking of heels would surely give you away. You hear a noise behind you and turn to face it. Luckily the shadow on the wall confirms your thought, the blacken shape too low to be anyone but Dr Wells.

“Miss Y/LN, I was looking for you, we have to leave. Now,” he commands as he comes into view.

You nod and run to join him, “He’s here isn’t he?” you ask as you follow him.

“Yes. He holds me responsible and has come to exact his revenge, but I am sure he will kill whoever stands in his way,” he replies calmly, though with an undertone of annoyance that stops you from asking anything else.

As you are led to the generator room you realise that he came back for you. Technically any of the others would have been a better choice as they could run but he didn’t send them, he came for you himself. You feel flattered, smiling slightly though the little voice in your head tells you that you are probably reading too much into the situation, that he was probably going that way anyway. But then he did say that he was looking for you. You shake all that from your head as you join up with Cisco, Caitlin and Barry.

You listen to them talk, happy to hear that there is another way out. Escaping through the garage seems like a brilliant idea until Farooq catches up. You watch with horror as Dr Wells draws the meta’s attention. You’re impressed by his bravery but also gripped by the fear that this might be the last time that you ever hear his voice. You cry out as he is struck from his chair, tears in your eyes as Farooq attacks again. You hadn’t realised that you were holding your breath until Barry drops Dr Wells next to Cisco, saving him, and you breathe again. You wipe your eyes and in a manner or minuets this whole adventure is over.

Whilst the others deal with dead bodies, you try and clear up a little. There is broken glass in places and tipped furniture. You try and remove the most dangerous stuff first. After everything you’ve been through all you really want is a stiff drink and maybe some ice-cream, but being useful would also be nice. You feel guilty for that, for not being useful. Caitlin got Barry’s powers back, Cisco fixed the generator and came up with an escape route and Dr Wells had been prepared to sacrifice himself to save everyone else. All you had done was tag along. You weren’t used to this superhero stuff. You weren’t sure what you had expected but being attacked in your own workplace wasn’t it.

“Miss Y/LN?” The voice of Dr Wells pulls you from your thoughts.

You stop sweeping and look up. “Dr Wells, how are you feeling? Are you ok?” you ask.

“I’m fine. No that’s not important right now, what’s important is that you are alright,” he says as he approaches you, those incredible piercing blue eyes locked on yours.

You are sure you are blushing. “What do you mean? I’m not the one who got zapped. I’m fine,” you reply, not willing to admit just how shaken you are.

Dr Wells sighs, removes his glasses and smiles slightly, “Good. I know that this is not what you signed up for, working here, being threaten and watching a man die, but I hope that it has not put you off.”

You suddenly realise what he is getting at, “No, no, I love working here. This isn’t going to stop me. It’d take more than this to make me quit,” you protest.

“Glad to hear it. Why don’t you take off for the evening? We can deal with this. We’ll catch up tomorrow,” he says with obvious relief and that stunning smile that inhibits your ability to think straight.

“Yes, sure, thank you,” you manage to say, smiling back before going to retrieve your things and head home.


	5. Work life balance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took so long. For those that don't follow my tumblr, I've been seriously ill. I'm still undergoing tests but I'm back home and able to write a bit. This story is still being written, I'm not about to abandon it, so please just stick with me.  
> 

You don’t really get a chance to think until you make it home. As much as you love your motorcycle, going fast means you have to pay attention. Getting lost in your thoughts is not an option, or at least not a good one on the busy roads of Central City. Once home you take off your shoes, don your fuzzy slippers and get yourself a drink. You’d like to relax and although your body is doing its part your mind is still active. You replay the events of the day in your head. It’s true that you weren’t expecting to have a meta-human storm your work place looking for blood. You knew that they could be dangerous but the ones you were meant to be taking samples from should be either co-operative, like Barry, or in the pipeline and thus able to be sedated for the procedure. However, when you reflected on it, science was a dangerous job. It was easy to forget that with modern safety procedures but there was still the threat of deadly gas leaks, pathogen exposure and as STAR labs had shown; explosions. And then there were zoologists who often went into the wild to study dangerous animals. The more you think about it the more normal it seems and it starts to sit better with you. Though the fact that two people died is still a shame. You wonder briefly if their bodies will still be good for samples and then chide yourself for being morbid.

The rest of the evening is spent catching up with TV boxsets. You missed so many good series whilst you were away and although you have been back a few weeks, you still have a lot to watch. You even decide that some ice-cream is in order and it ends your night nicely.

The next day work just seems to drag. It isn’t that you are concerned about another incident, everyone seems rather happy and secure. Cisco is trying to improve security and Caitlin is working over some of Barry’s test results when you check in at lunch. No, it’s something else that is bothering you. You find yourself distracted whilst you work, your mind wandering. Taking your iPod from your bag you decide that maybe some music will help. It does and you soon find yourself productive again. It isn’t long before you find yourself back in the swing of things. Hours pass and it’s only the grumbling of your stomach that reminds you that you need to stop. Taking the earbuds out you realise that it is already past 7pm. You start to pack up when you hear the door open.

“Miss Y/LN, working late I see,” Dr Wells sounds surprised that you are there, but not disappointed.

“I was just packing up. Is there something you need Dr Wells?”

“I have a sample from the late Mr Gibran. I… want you to find out how he stole Barry’s powers,” he explains, holding out the sample.

You take it from him with a smile, “Knowing that would give us a great advantage, both in protecting Barry and getting his power back if another meta steals it. I can try, though I’ll need to start with replicating the tissue first and getting it back to a healthy state before I can test anything.”

“As long as it takes. However, I’d rather we keep this between ourselves. I’m unsure if Barry told you but he believes that his mother was murdered by someone with powers. Speed powers much like his own. One day Barry will find this other speedster and when he does, knowing how to stop him, how to steal his speed will be crucial. Barry is very….sensitive about this and I wouldn’t want to give him false hope. He needs to be focused right now.”

“I understand,” you reply solemnly as you put the sample away. “You can trust me.” He gives a satisfied nod and is about to turn and leave when realisation dawns on you about what has been bothering you all day. “Uh…” Catching his attention he turns back to face you. “Dr Wells, about yesterday, I never said thank you for coming back for me, you didn’t have to but you did and I appreciate that. I just wanted you to know.”  

That makes him smile. He looks up at you over his glasses, wetting his lips before he speaks, “You’re welcome Miss Y/LN. Caitlin was safe with Barry and Cisco was already secure in the generator room. What kind of boss would I be if I left you behind?”

You nod, understanding now, “Of course, well thank you anyway.” You pick up your bag and go to leave. Passing Dr Wells you are suddenly taken by surprise, looking down you see that his hand has grabbed your arm stopping you in your tracks. You watch with fascination as it slides down to your hand, the skin contact making your breath hitch. You can feel his eyes on you and as you meet his gaze he speaks, his voice soft, different, “You are worth coming back for Y/N.” Both your thoughts and voice fail you as you have no idea how to respond to that. He smiles and takes back his hand, breaking the spell, “Have a good evening and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You manage to nod and are half way down the hallway before your thoughts are anywhere near sensible again. You try to calm yourself down, contrasting thoughts filling your mind. Was he flirting with you? He couldn’t possibly be flirting? He was just being reassuring, right? Being a good boss. But he didn’t have to say that, he’d already explained. He didn’t have to touch you. Alone in the elevator you look at your hand, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin. You close your eyes for a second and the warmth is there again, the slight roughness of his skin, the pressure as he gently squeezed your hand. You open your eyes with a sigh, the sensations somewhat overwhelming. You take a deep breath as you get to your bike, you need your faculties for the drive home. You try to push the thoughts of what had happened out of your mind. It was probably nothing you tell yourself but you’re not sure you even really believe that.

The journey home clears out your mind a bit. Food helps as well and you are able to look at the whole situation from a calmer more rational perspective. You are still unsure what to do about it all. It isn’t that Dr Well’s isn’t attractive, but more that he is your boss and it wouldn’t be appropriate. Plus he isn’t exactly sociable and although you know it shouldn’t matter, you still have no idea exactly what his injuries are. He never talks about himself. But then that was the crux of the matter, there were things you didn’t know. You knew he was a widower but nothing about his previous wife. And as he kept shirking away from casual get-togethers with the team, you weren’t exactly sure what his non-work persona was like. Everyone wore masks; friend, worker, lover. All slightly different personas depending on situation and audience. You’d always tried to be professional at work, friendly when out and totally relaxed at home. It was when the lines blurred that things got complicated. Even if Dr Wells had been flirting, he hadn’t been sharing and from everything you’d seen so far, he wasn’t the sharing sort. But then if he had been flirting, you reason, then he should want some alone time with you to open up a bit. So that is what you would do. You weren’t sure how exactly but you needed to get him alone in a relaxed, non-work situation. If he wouldn’t attend or remained professional then at least you’d know he wasn’t interested. Though you had no idea what you were going to do if he was interested. You’d just have to cross that bridge when you got to it.


	6. Another day at the office (Revised)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry but I needed to re-write this chapter. I read my story notes wrong and got some stuff out of sequence so I took down the chapter and have completely re-written like 80% of it. Plus I wrote more and now this chapter is longer and far better. Yay!!!

The next morning you try not to dwell on the day before. Every time thoughts of romance slip into your head you push them out with thoughts of work. You presumed that once you had decided what you were going to about it your mind would settle down. But no. It was still there. Bothering you. You let out an audible sigh, slightly disappointed with yourself. You’d never had this problem when you’d worked with Dr Wells a year ago. But then so much had changed, he’d changed. Which was to be expected considering both his injuries and his feelings of responsibility for those injured in the explosion. He’d been so driven to get the particle accelerator up and running, encouraging everyone towards that goal or other projects. Now however everything seemed much more personal. He was invested in people, in Barry and although he avoided additional socialising it was obvious that he cared about the team. You supposed that he seemed far more like a person now, caring, protective and casually dressed. No longer the demanding, suit wearing, brusque workaholic he’d been before.

You realise that you are dwelling again and shake your head. You’d better get to work just so you have something else to keep you occupied. You put your coffee mug down with a look of disgust, it having gone cold. An idea forms and you grab your keys. The ride is wonderful as ever, concentrating on the road as you speed through the city is almost a meditative state, clearing your mind and helping you relax. Usually you miss the traffic by going in late but today it was because you were early. Though you aren’t heading to work, but to Jitters looking for hot coffee and something sweet for breakfast. Upon arriving you notice that you weren’t the only one with that idea. Seems like half the business sector has the same idea. You eye the menu as you wait but then you gaze falls upon one of the staff. You recognise Iris from one of the games nights at Barry’s and give a smile and nod in her direction. You wouldn’t have minded the opportunity to chat but it’s busy and you are served by the other girl. The coffee doesn’t take long and is accompanied by a muffin, a particularly chocolatey one, deciding to treat yourself. You go to wave a goodbye to Iris but she is busy saying a rather personal goodbye to one of the customers who you presume must be her boyfriend. They look happy causing you to smile. The same intruding thoughts from the morning start to resurface but you distract yourself with the glorious taste of the muffin. Romance may be fine but chocolate is better.

Saving the rest of the muffin for when you actually get to work you get back on your bike. Zipping through the city avoiding the traffic is a challenge as it starts to build up but you know enough back ways to keep clear. You’d love to take your helmet off, feel the wind in your hair, but you’d rather the safety of the helmet than the possibly fatal alternatives. In no time you are descending the ramps into the garage below STAR labs. The empty space seems odd compared to last year when it was always so packed. But that was then and this is now. And right now you want to sit at your desk, drink your still hot coffee and finish your muffin. As you are walking down the corridor you hear excitement from the Cortex. Surprised that everyone else is in so early you go to investigate finding that both Caitlin and Cisco are already there. Seems that your idea of early is different to everyone else’s. You wander in, wave a greeting and listen as Cisco guides Barry towards a bank robbery. It sounds like there is a riot of some sort going on but the Flash soon has it all cleared up. You wonder if this will turn into another meta human case but right now thoughts of food are far more pressing. Excusing yourself you disappear to your room.

Breakfast is a welcome comfort and you eat slowly whilst you wait for your computer and machines to boot up. Work goes on but for you it isn’t a chore but rather a passion. Everything so far is just preparation for the main tests and creation of the correct nanites. Programming them always takes ages but you enjoy that aspect, usually putting your music on and loosing yourself into the reams of letters and numbers, letting your perfectionism and attention to detail take over. Today however would be more set up, more analysing the genetic structures and choosing the correct parameters to set. Between your iPod and the work itself you are perfectly content and occupied.

Eventually your stomach gets the better of you and you stop, looking to the clock. Lunch time. You get up, stretching for comfort and leave the room. It’s your turn to do the lunch run anyway. You grab your bag and make your way towards the Cortex. Cisco seems in a state of excitement, Barry having texted him to confirm that the morning robbery seems to have been meta related. You briefly interrupt to ask if anyone wants anything and Cisco smiles as if you have just had the best idea ever and gives you a huge order, obviously hungry. Caitlin never eats much but she is glad for the offer and even Dr Wells gives you an order as soon as he hears it is Big Belly Burger. You find it endearing that he so obviously loves take out when most people of his standing would usually snub such food. As you leave the building a red streak of light wooshes past you, something that you are slowly getting used to. You’ll catch up with all the news when you get back.

By the time you return Barry has gone and the atmosphere in the Cortex is strange. Caitlin seems disgruntled about something and when you enquire she just shakes her head and grumbles something about Barry and Iris. You sit and have lunch with the team as Cisco fills you in on what they know about this new meta. The ability to engender fury in others seems like something incredibly dangerous and you wonder what Cisco will eventually name this villain. Caitlin goes into the science of it all, explaining how the executive function in the brain was being inhibited by the meta’s power via the ocular nerve. You share theories for a bit but ultimately know that this isn’t your area of expertise. You even manage to converse with Dr Wells finding yourself to be perfectly normal, your previously distracting thoughts seeming to have evaporated when confronted with reality. You’re still resolved to get him alone at some point but that would wait until an opportunity presented itself.

The rest of the day is spent in your lab, enjoying your work and making slow but important progress. When the end of the day rolls round you are a little tired but happy. You pack up your stuff and go to head out. You are halfway down the hallway when you hear a scream. Running towards the Cortex you bump into Caitlin who was running out of there.

“What’s going on? Are you alright?” you ask with concern.

“Boomerang. Cisco threw it,” she huffs, catching her breath.

Ok, so you weren’t expecting that, “Boomerang?”

Caitlin explains to you about how a friend of theirs, Felicity, is working a case with the Starling City vigilante, the Arrow and is trying to track down a criminal who uses a boomerang to commit his crimes. You have to supress your amusement at the thought of a guy robbing places with a boomerang, knowing that it was probably far more serious than the comedy image in your head. Well it turns out that this boomerang is dangerously sharp and quite the weapon, even in the untrained hands of Cisco who had just managed to destroy several bit of lab equipment and endanger everyone by throwing it.

You offer to help clean up but Caitlin seems pretty determined to make Cisco do it and so you excuse yourself. Walking to your bike you are struck by just how crazy your work could be, anger inducing metas and boomerang criminals. It sounded like something from a book, but then so did the Flash. However you also knew that with everyone busy being on the case, you would get a lot of peace and quiet to work in. Putting on your helmet and starting your bike you head off home.

*             *             *

Coming into work the next day is a little exciting as you wonder if the meta has been caught. There was nothing on the news about another robbery or strange crime spree so either he was lying low or Barry had got him. When you get in you discover that he hasn’t been caught yet but Cisco is working on a way to track him. You ask them to keep you posted and disappear to your lab to actually work. It does feel a bit strange to be the only one not really contributing to the whole superhero / crime fighting side of things but you remind yourself that your work would be important in the long run. It had taken 13 years to map the human genome and you knew that mapping these mutations wouldn’t take as long so that was a comfort. Even with all the high tech equipment it wasn’t a quick job. If there had been funding then you imagine that there would be a whole team working on this, but it was actually quite nice to be in charge of such a large bit of research. And Caitlin helped out when she could, her medical input valuable.

Mid way through the morning a cough startles you, drawing your attention from your work. Snapping your head up you look towards the door way.

“A word please Miss Y/LN,” Dr Wells says, his tone giving the impression you don’t have a choice.

You’re not sure why but you have the distinct feeling that you are in trouble for something. Slightly weary you save your work and turn your seat to face him, “Sure, is there a problem?”

He enters the room, closing the door behind him and you are now certain that something is wrong. He looks at you as if deciding something, his usual slight smile replaced by a more pensive look.

“Barry is working with the Starling City vigilante, the Arrow. His associates, his team are here and although they are useful and aiding us I would like to air on the side of caution. The Arrow himself is an unknown and a dangerous one at that. Vigilante not a hero, not an inspiration like Barry is,” he explains with obvious distaste. He takes a breath and leaning one elbow on his armrest he removes his glasses, “Which is why I would prefer that you remain distant from this case, from team Arrow. Your work is, as by our contract, confidential and I’d hate for them to slow your progress with their own projects. You have a unique set of skills, skills that are valuable to us here and rather selfishly I’d prefer not to share,”

You take a moment whilst your brain processes all of that, trying to decide if you feel more worried or flattered. You settle on flattered. You aren’t sure what team Arrow would do with your skills, although you were well aware that with the right modifications your nanotechnology could rather easily be weaponised. That was the beauty of nanites, they could do nearly anything.

“You make it sound like they might kidnap me,” you reply with a nervous laugh, then more reassuringly, “I’m not about to share my research or work on anything else, I have far too much to do here,”

The corner of his mouth twitches with the slightest ghost of a smile before he speaks, “They are working within Palmer Technologies,”

“Ahh,” You now understand. In the past, on two separate occasions Palmer Technologies had rather fiercely head hunted you. You knew that they were the main competition in the nanotechnology market, with their CEO Ray Palmer himself heading the projects. He’d even turned up in Central City once to buy you lunch and try to win you over. The offer had indeed been generous, though STAR labs had been quick to match it in order to retain you, not that they had needed to. You knew where your loyalties lay. But you could see how now, considering that STAR labs was a shell of what it had been previously, Palmer Technologies could be seen as very inviting.

“There is nothing that they could offer that I want,” you say, reaching out and putting your hand on his before you even realise what you are doing. _Were you flirting now?_ He didn’t seem to mind, if anything his expression had softened “I have everything I need right here.” You take back your hand not wanting to make this awkward as you try to stow the mental panic about what the hell you are doing.

“Good to know, Y/N,” he replies with a smile before putting his glasses back on, “If there is anything you need, I’m sure we can try to accommodate,” he adds as he moves to leave.

“Will do,” you say with a smile, watching him go.

As soon as you are alone you get up and go to close the door, leaning against it and letting out a half laugh, half sigh as you find wry amusement in yourself. _What were you even doing?_ This time you were certain that you at least were flirting. Had it really been so long since you’d even dated anyone that you’d forgotten how? Thinking about it you realise that yes, it had been a while, work always coming first. But then he hadn’t flinched, hadn’t stared at you in shock or asked what you were doing. He simply looked briefly at your hand and then in your eyes with a sort of supressed smile. You hold the mental image in your head, trying to make sure that you are not misinterpreting things. With a shrug you give up, at least he wasn’t freaked out and right now that was a positive. You go back to your seat and put on your iPod, blaring loud music to clear your head as you try to get back to work.

For the rest of the day and the one that follows you do as requested and stay away from the Cortex and team Arrow. You hear from Caitlin that Barry has been ‘whammied’ by the meta and gone all rage monster. Then later from Cisco about the epic battle between Barry and Arrow and the science they used to cure him of the induced rage. The next day the meta Roy G. Bivolo, nicknamed Prism by Cisco though Caitlin was holding out for Rainbow Raider, was apprehended and locked in the pipeline. You had the joy of meeting him yourself shortly before he was knocked unconscious by gas so that you could take samples. Everyone seems really positive after the capture though you excuse yourself from the celebrations as they are with team Arrow.  Instead you head home, resolving to have a good evening on your own.


	7. Alone at last

Dragging yourself out of bed you shuffle towards the kitchenette, heading for the coffee machine. Once the machine is purring you flick the TV on and are confronted by cartoons. Your sleepy brain suddenly clicks into place and you realise it is the weekend. Perhaps if you hadn’t stayed up all night to complete that boxset you would have remembered. Or maybe you remembered last night and that’s why it was ok to stay up. Coffee could wait you decide as you pad back to your bed.

Besides the glorious late mornings you are really productive over the weekend. You get all your household chores done quickly and then spend the rest of the time enjoying yourself. You decide to track down some of your previous work friends, discovering that one of your closest had moved out to Coast City. She’s glad to hear from you on Skype and soon enough you’ve spent the whole evening chatting and are planning to go and visit her. As much as you like Central City a lot of the people you previously knew had left when STAR labs exploded. Quite a few had gone to Metropolis but you never fancied the big city. And you totally didn’t understand those that went to Starling or even less Gotham. Both places having quite the reputation.

By the time that Monday morning rolls round you are feeling refreshed and keen to get back to work. The sun is warm and it’s a beautiful morning for zipping through the city on your bike. You decide that as it is Monday and you are feeling good you’ll grab some muffins on the way to work for everyone. You get in a little later than usual and walk down to the Cortex, box of muffins in hand.

“I brought…” you stop as you enter the Cortex, finding it empty except for Dr Wells, “muffins. Where is everyone?”

You put the box down on the counter as Dr Wells looks up from his work. He holds up a note between his slender fingers as if it is an answer to your question. Perplexed you take it and upon opening are greeted with Caitlin’s familiar doctor scrawl.

 

_'Dr Wells_

_We’ve gone to help Felicity. Be back soon. Please see this as holiday._

_Caitlin and Cisco'_

 

You read and reread the note as Dr Wells surreptitiously reaches for the muffins, sliding the box across the counter.

"At least we have pick of the muffins, well until Barry turns up," you say with a smile, having previously noted how food never lasted long round the speedster.

Dr Wells shakes his head, "I believe that Mr Allen has gone with them,"

"Oh...well more for us," you say, shrugging and reaching for the box only to find it moved. Dr Wells slides the box back in your direction for which you give an appreciative smile. You take one, "I'm going to take this to my desk as I need to start some of the tests going. Any idea when they'll be back?" you ask wanting to know just how much time you had. This was perfect. It was the exact opportunity you had been waiting for to get Dr Wells alone and you weren’t about to pass it up.

Dr Wells gives a reassuring smile, "By the end of the week I'd imagine. I would be fine here on my own if you'd rather take some holiday as well,” he points out as he watches for your response.

"No, I have too much work to be getting on with, unless you want to be rid of me, have the place to yourself," you counter, not about to give the wrong impression.

Dr Wells looks up over his glasses at you and smiles, "Actually I'd prefer the company,"

"I need to test samples today, but I could always work in here tomorrow if you’d like? See you at lunch Dr Wells," you reply, taking the opportunity.

"Perfect. Lunch it is," he confirms as you leave.

You wait till you get into your lab to let your feelings show, a huge smile on your face. You feel proud of yourself, you handled that calmly, took control of the situation and managed to wrangle a lunch date. Ok, so it wasn’t a date but it was lunch and lunch without the others. You’d noticed that whenever you were in a group Dr Wells gave very little input mainly listening and observing as everyone else talked. He also seemed to be a master at talking about anything other than himself. You’d read his autobiography quite a while ago and even that had nothing actually personal in it. Plus you’d be working with him tomorrow so that would spark some conversation. At least you would know. If he spoke only about work and team things then you’d know that he wasn’t interested and you’d just misread the signals. However, if he did open up to you, well you weren’t sure what you’d do at that point but you weren’t going to back down just because the outcome was unknown. It was almost like some grand experiment.

Thinking of experiments you remember to turn on your machines and check your data from the day before. Everything still running as it should. Settling down in your chair you start to eat your muffin as the computers boot up, trying to focus your mind on work and not the possibilities of office romance. The rest of the morning goes surprisingly fast and before you know it one o'clock has slipped by. You stretch first, enjoying the feeling as you peel yourself away from reams of code. Looking at the clock you realise that if you don’t get a move on then you are going to miss the lunch you were so proud to have set up. You grab your lunch from your bag, check on all your machines and then wander over to the Cortex.

Dr Wells looks up as you enter, his lunch already open on the counter, nearly finished. "Ah Miss Y/LN, I was beginning to think you'd stood me up," he says with a playful smirk as he gestures to the empty chair beside him.

Your cheeks flush as his words catch you off guard. You hadn’t been expecting that, and it takes you a moment before you can compose yourself and take the seat. "As if I would," you reply, being bold and playing it off, "But you know I love the work,”

“You still need to take breaks. Don’t want you burning yourself out,” he advises which you find ironic considering just how much of a workaholic he is.

“You’re one to talk. But don’t worry about me Dr Wells, I relax as hard as I work,” you reply truthfully. “But what about you? What do you do outside work, to relax?”

You can tell by his expression that that wasn’t a question he was expecting to be asked let alone answer, “I’m afraid my routine is very boring. I’m sure it’s nothing you’d find interesting. I’d rather hear about what you get up to,” he replies, trying to throw the conversation back your way, but you aren’t going for it.

“Try me, I’m pretty sure you don’t just wheel into a closet at the end of the day and power down, waiting for the next day of work. You’re not a robot Dr Wells, and I am interested, I’d like to know what you do, what interests you. If you are willing to share of course, I don’t want to impose,” you reply with sincere curiosity.

Dr Wells presses his lips together as if he is thinking about how to answer, weighing up in his head exactly how much you deserve to know. “Yes, I am not a robot. But I am a very private person Miss Y/LN, I am not a man used to sharing details of my life with others,” he cautions. Disappointment starts to well up and you try to fix your expression so that it doesn’t show on your face. You hadn’t realised just how much you had been hoping that he would share though knowing either way would put your mind to rest. Removing his glasses he looks at you for a moment, a wry smile on his lips as he goes to continue, “However… I will make you a deal. You best me at chess and I’ll answer a question, one question, honestly.”

You suddenly perk up. This wasn’t a no, this was a maybe. You were actually a little excited about having to earn answers, you liked a challenge. Though you were also aware that the odds were heavily stacked in his favour, but you could negotiate that, “Ok, but we both know chess is your game. So we’ll play today but tomorrow I get to pick the game. Same rules,” you counter.

That seems to interest him, a certain spark in those clear blue eyes, “Do I get to know what the game is first?”

“No. You’re a smart man, I’m sure you’ll pick up whatever I choose very quickly.”

He smiles, amused by it all as he conceding to your demands, “The chess set is in lower drawer, I trust you’d like to play now? If I can draw your attention away from your work,”

“I don’t think my boss will mind,” you reply playfully, “Though let me finish my lunch first,”

In no time at all you are finished and the game is on. You are equal for a while but it doesn’t take too long for the inevitable to become obvious. You weren’t going to win this one. You are holding your own, but only just. Most of your moves are pure reaction, firefighting and you know that will only last so long. But then this was his game and you’d never beaten him before. You were playing well enough to make him think, to consider his moves and that was a good sign. If you were going to lose then at least you’d been a challenge.

“Checkmate,” he says softly, not looking too smug about his victory.

 “Congratulations,” you reply with a smile, taking your defeat graciously. “Your prize?” you question, realising that you never set one for his victory.

A flicker of something you can’t quite place crosses Dr Wells face as he fiddles with one of the chess pieces, obviously considering. He places the chess piece, the rook, back in the box and looks to you. Wetting his lips first he goes to speak, “A question. Would you steal a loaf of bread to feed your starving loved ones?”

That throws you completely. Confused you answer slowly, “Is that a parable or one of Kohlberg’s moral dilemmas? Either way you can be assured that my professional ethics are of the highest standards,” you reply, somewhat defensively. Ethical standards were a scientific must as no project would ever even get off the ground if it didn’t have a strict ethical procedure. You’d never get approval or grant money without it.

He shakes his head, waving your concerns away with a hand gesture, “I have no doubt about you ethical standard. I’ve seen your work, approved it even, I know that already. No, I am more interested in your … personal morals.”

That doesn’t make you any less confused but you feel a little less wary about answering, “Right…” you consider for a moment, “Well no, I wouldn’t steal a loaf of bread. I’d steal a fishing rod or a cross bow or even a gun. Something that I could use to hunt, to provide long term,”

“Fascinating. You show admirable forethought Miss Y/LN,” he replies, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

As you start to pack away the chess set you think about it a little more, “Well I’d still rather not get to that situation. Not that I have loved ones to provide for. But if I did I guess that I would do whatever was necessary, even if it wasn’t lawful. I guess I am what Cisco would call chaotic good or maybe neutral,” you reply, though not sure that he’d get the D&D reference. Glancing up at the clock you notice the time, “Anyway, I better get back to my lab, those samples aren’t going to unpack themselves,”

The rest of your day is spent trying to avoid wondering why exactly he’d asked you that question. You reason that he seemed satisfied with the answer and so did it really matter? But there was something that bothered you about it. You had thought he might ask you something mundane as you were unsure just how much he knew about you. But then he was there when all of you talked about your weekends and lives so perhaps there wasn’t much he didn’t know already. You suppose that you were just startled by being asked something quite so personal. Yes, sexual preference or religious views were more commonly deemed as personal, core value things, but a person’s morality was not much different. After all, morality did dictate behaviour to an extent. Perhaps that had been the point after all. He obviously knew where Barry stood morally, he was the hero after all. And Cisco and Caitlin must have been put in situations which caused them to make moral decisions. Even their running off to help Felicity was a show of their values. You, however, had not had to show anything yet. You’d just had to be professional and although you’d hope it was obvious you could keep a secret, the nature of your work being confidential and all that, you supposed it didn’t really give too much insight into your personal values.

By the time you got home that evening you had stopped thinking about it, turning your mind to more important things such as dinner and the game you’d play tomorrow. You decide to spend your time brushing up on your skills, just in case he already knew how to play. The whole thing excited you really. Playing games for answers, being challenged like this. You like to earn your answers, it was one of the reasons you were so good at your job. Science after all was asking a question and designing an experimental method to find the answers to that question. You weren’t sure if possible romance was something that could be tested with scientific methods but you were keen to find out.

*             *             *

The next day you feel surprisingly perky. You make it to work in good time, finding that Dr Wells is already there. You wonder briefly if he actually ever went home, wherever his home was, as he always seemed to be here. He does seem positive to have you working in the Cortex today and once you are back from setting off some tests in your lab you do exchange casual pleasantries. The morning ticks along as you manage to get a lot of work done. It is amazing how productive you can be when your boss is perpetually looking over your shoulder. It wasn’t metaphorical either as you would just be in the middle of analysing something when suddenly he asks a question about it, startling you as you had been unaware that he was even monitoring your screen. By the fifth time you decide to just give him a full verbal report on where you are up to with your work. It isn’t that he is reviewing you, or concerned about your progress but genuinely interested in your method and analysis. It is nice to get intelligent conversation about your work and even the difficult questions he asks give you new avenues to explore. That was one of the reasons he was such a good boss though, that he had the ability to make you think, to push you to further yourself.

Lunch time soon comes and you eat in a contented near silence. You can feel Dr Wells looking at you and you turn to meet his gaze, tilting your head as if to ask why. “So, Miss Y/LN, what game do you have for us today? If it's Twister then I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline,” he asks in good humour.

 You supress a giggle, digging into your bag and producing a box. You place it on the table between you. “No, I brought something I thought you would enjoy,” you reply, opening it, revealing many black and white stones. “When I was in England I started playing Go. It is an ancient Chinese game, easy to learn, hard to master and requires a lot of strategy but also fluidity. There are far more permutations than chess, apparently there are more possibilities than atoms in the known universe. They say no two games are alike.”

Dr Wells looks fascinated with the game as a broad smile lights up his face, “Interesting. I have never played Go before though I am very interested to learn,”

“In that case I shall teach you and when you feel confident then we can play,” you reply, not wanting to win through the sheer unfair advantage of experience.

It doesn’t take you too long to run through all the rules. Dr Wells is a fast learner and seems to pick everything up incredibly swiftly. It is actually quite fun being able to teach him something for once. Though it is more than a little distracting to be the focus of his attention. You run two test games, just to be sure, explaining the finer details of how it works until he prompts you to play for real. You notice that you have already gone past the lunch break but as you have nothing time sensitive on and your boss hadn’t said anything you presume you are fine. You confirm the rules of victory before you start, the winner getting to ask a question that will be honestly answered as the prize. Dr Wells seems more than happy with this, keen to play and for that you are glad.

Dr Wells is surprisingly talented at the game and you have to up your efforts to take victory. He started slowly, you’re not sure if he was actually getting up to speed or just luring you into a false sense of security but there was one point where you even thought you might lose. However that was not to be and your experience and analytical thinking won out.

“A well-deserved victory,” he compliments you as you finish. “Claim your prize.”

You think for a moment and maybe you are just giddy from your victory but you decide that it’s time to go big or go home.

You look him in the eye and ask “What’s your biggest secret?” You watch as he raises an eyebrow in response, probably having expected you to ask about his home life as you had done yesterday, the question that had started these games. You suddenly think that maybe you should have asked something else, “You don’t have to answer that, I can ask something else if that’s too personal,” you say, back peddling furiously.

He waves away your concerns with a hand gesture, “No, no, it’s fine, just unexpected. But I did promise to answer,” he reassures you. “My biggest secret….” He ponders, pursing his lips slightly as he thinks. His gaze focuses as he seems to have settled on an answer, “My first name, it wasn’t always Harrison,”

That was interesting, but not uncommon. You’d known of people who had either used their middle name or changed their name completely. You wonder briefly if it was something hilarious or simply outdated. However right now, brimming with curiosity, you ask the obvious question, “What is it? Why the change?”

Dr Wells suddenly looks very serious, as if he was having second thoughts on mentioning it at all.  “Miss Y/LN I trust that under no circumstance you would ever divulge anything I choose to share with you?” he says with all the warmth of an iceberg as he fixes you with his equally glacial eyes.

You move your chair a little closer. Realising that this obviously means a great deal to him you want him to know that you are taking it seriously. He turns his chair to fully face you as you speak. “I will never repeat any of this, I swear. You have my word Dr Wells,” you reply solemnly and with compete honesty.

He gives a nod and the faintest of smiles. He takes a moment, looks at you, leans an elbow on an arm rest and removes his glasses putting them down on the table. He pauses for a moment before speaking, looking at you in a way that suggests he is assessing something. “My name, my first name, although distinguished is not common in this time,” he starts. You watch as he swallows, wetting his lips as if he is struggling with even saying this out loud. He leans in which only adds to the atmosphere of secrecy and you find yourself mimicking his position, wanting to hear what he is having so much trouble saying, “My name, the one I was given at birth … is Eobard,”

“Eobard?” you repeat quietly eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the name’s owner, closing his eyes for a moment as if savouring it. You look down as you feel his hand suddenly on yours. You can hear your heart pounding in your chest as his thumb traces the bones of your wrist. Mesmerised you look up at him, not sure you could talk right now even if you wanted to.

“As much as it pleases me to hear you say my name Miss Y/LN, this must remain a secret, you must never use it, especially in front of others. You understand?” he says, speaking softly but firmly, his words weighted with such importance.

It takes a moment for you to reply, time seeming to have stopped as he spoke. “Yes, I swear,” you manage to say, finding your voice again, holding his gaze. You suddenly become very aware of the space between you, or lack thereof, and that if you leaned in just a little more you could…

And that thought snaps you back to reality. You pull back, sitting up straight as you take back your hands, trying desperately to supress an embarrassed smile, sure now that your face is redder than a tomato.

“I…uh, wow, would you look at the time, we’ve been playing all afternoon,” you say, a little too fast as you stand, going to put the board away.

Dr Wells seems amused by something as he returns his glasses to their usual place, “Its fine, I know that you are working hard and you don’t have definitive deadlines. You can even leave early if you wish,” he reminds you as he passes you one of the stones to put away. Which would have been helpful except that the way he lingers his hand on yours only peaks your heart rate and you begin to wonder if he is getting some sort of amusement out of all this. And then it hits you. The answer to your question and the reason you wanted to get him alone in the first place. Yes, he was flirting with you, obviously so and although that was great to know, you now had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

You decline the offer of going home early, determined that work would still come first regardless. Though you do excuse yourself to your lab for a bit under the pretence of running tests but in actual fact to just gather your thoughts. You decide that the best thing to do for the moment was to keep acting professional and getting on with work. If he was nice, you’d be nice. But you weren’t going to initiate anything. You might Google his real name later though. You had seriously never heard anything like it before. When he had said it wasn’t common you had expected something a bit old fashioned like Boris, not Eobard which sounded as if it was from somewhere in medieval Europe. But you could see why Harrison was a better choice for business, presuming that had been his middle name as even people you’d seen in interview who had known him since school called him by it. He had nothing to worry about from you though, you didn’t call him Harrison let alone Eobard. To you he was still Dr Wells. You guess that might change soon but right now the idea of possibilities was only making you blush and so you push them to one side, locking them in a mental box where you could look at them later, when they would not interfere with work.  

The few remaining hours pass comfortably and by the time you pack away you are feeling just about back to normal. “Ok, I’m going to head home,” you say, standing and picking up your bag.

“Have a good evening,” Dr Wells replies, looking up briefly. You are almost out the door when he adds, “Chess tomorrow?”

“Sure, why not,” you reply without looking back.


	8. Of things to come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go really well then really badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who continues to follow this story. It is still being written and I have plans to write it to the end of Series 1 at least.

There is a moment of pureness that exists between waking and sleeping. That fleeting period of time between dreams and the waking world. You lay in bed, having almost automatically silenced your alarm, enjoying that peace briefly as memories and plans start to flood back into your mind. You feel joy flow into your mind and features at the thought of yesterday, of his hand on yours, of the way he smiled at you, at knowing you shared a secret. Despite your best efforts to keep everything calm and sensible there was only one subject your mind wanted to wander on to. There was of course the little voice in your head that said you were being an idiot, that it meant nothing, that he was your boss and you shouldn’t. However your positive voice, although more panicked, now had evidence and was making a good case. You didn’t doubt that you were imagining his attentions now at least.

Thinking of his ‘attentions’ causes your shower to last longer than usual but at least you were now perky, barely needing your routine mug of coffee. You decant some into a flask for later anyway and after going through the rest of your morning regime you head out to work. Traffic isn’t too bad this morning but it’s enough to keep you from your preferred speed. As you get closer to work a feeling of trepidation starts to spread through you. What if the team was back? Would you even be able to pursue this with them there? You chide yourself for thinking such things, reminding yourself that they are your friends and would be supportive. But it still bothers you considering the he hadn’t been so open with you when in their presence before. You resolve to just see how things go and if needs be you’d book a meeting with him or something. You did have a team diary for a reason.

As you park your bike your phone buzzes bringing you good news. Your friend Grace, who you had spoken to last night on Skype, was in town for a symposium that day. You’d known about it but apparently her plus one had to leave early and she was inviting you to the after talk party. A night talking about science over a free meal and drinks sounds like great fun and you text her back with your acceptance. It would be good to get out and reconnect. Especially before everyone got busy with the Christmas holidays.

Despite the lights being on when you arrive in the Cortex, Dr Wells is nowhere to be found. Shrugging you go to your lab, figuring that if the lights were on then he was at least around somewhere and you’d catch him later. You were meant to be working after all, this wasn’t a social club. So you take out last night’s batch of samples and put them in the freezer, booting up your computer as you pass it. Having closed the freezer door you step back, your brain having caught up with your eyes. You go back to your screen and take the yellow posit-it note that is stuck to the bottom of it.

 _‘Miss Y/LN_  
Been called away for a medical appointment.  
Should be back for lunch.  
Chess?  
Harrison’

Ahhh. So that was where he’d gone. Made sense. Of course considering his injuries he’d need check-ups and such. Probably with some world leading medical team you theorise. Well at least he’d be back for lunch. He could have texted or emailed you but then there was something nice about how he’d bothered to leave you a handwritten note. Folding it up you reach down and put it in your bag, retrieving your iPod so that you’d have musical accompaniment to your work. The morning goes painfully slow at first but soon you are lost in analysing the latest set of results. You know that you are going to have to rework the parameters again to make this work. You wonder if the team know anyone who could help with creating a shifting matrix so that reprogramming the nanites for different genetic mutation wouldn’t be so time consuming and note it down to ask later. You were hoping to make them adaptable on their own but the technology to do that would be a breakthrough in itself as it verged on A.I.

By the time midday comes you are so lost in what you are doing that it isn’t till half past that you notice. Having reached a good place to stop you stretch, enjoying the feeling, rolling the hunch out of your shoulders and taking a deep breath. Desk work always makes you stiff. You get your lunch from your bag and hurry to the Cortex. Arriving you find yourself disappointed that it is still empty and so take a seat. You don’t know how long you should wait for him before eating but it does seem rude to start without him. Needing a distraction you check your emails, update the games on your phone and read the news. An hour passes and you decide that getting some coffee and maybe starting your lunch might not be so bad. At least you’d drink the coffee first but if he hadn’t arrived before two then you’d have to get back to work if nothing else. All this waiting makes you realise just how much you want him to be there and not because of some foolish school-girl crush but because you actually really enjoy his company. Letting out a sigh you finish the last of your coffee. You are just about to pick up your sandwich when you hear a noise from the hall. You turn your chair in time to see Dr Wells wheel round the corner. Relieved you smile a greeting.

“Miss Y/LN,” he greets you with a nod as he wheels his chair into the vacant space besides you. “Have you eaten?”

“I was just about to,” you reply, indicating towards your lunch.

“Then don’t let me keep you, please, start,” he prompts as he retrieves his own meal from the backpack hooked over the back of his chair.

You both eat in a contented silence. You try to stop your hunger getting the better of you but although you are able to pace yourself, the food still tastes far better from the wait. As you eat you consider conversation. Should you ask about the medical appointment? Would that be a little too personal?

“So how was the appointment? Went well?” you try.

He nods, swallowing and then replies, “Well enough, no change either way,”

“That’s good. If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is the diagnosis?” you ask, daring to see if you could get more details. You knew that Caitlin had tried to find out and failed, Dr Wells assuring her that he didnt want to add to her work load with his own problems.

Dr Wells opens his mouth to answer but then smiles instead, “I believe we were trading victories for answers to personal questions, Miss Y/LN.”

You should have known, “Of course, chess today,” you reply, realising your answers might have to wait for tomorrow considering your slim chances of success.

Once you have finished your lunch you briefly return to your lab to switch on the second half of the tests before returning to the Cortex. The chess set is nearly set up by the time you return, Dr Wells gesturing to the seat opposite. You sit down and notice that he is playing black again, meaning that as white you would go first. Technically white should have the advantage according to what you had read on the game, however with Dr Wells you weren’t so sure. In a bold move you swivel the board round causing a raised eyebrow from your opponent.

“I went first last time,” you point out with a grin, “I’d hate to keep having the advantage. Seems unfair.”

Dr Wells seems amused by your boldness, a wry smiled on his lips. He looks over his glasses as he speaks, “You never cease to surprise me Miss Y/LN. Very well, we’ll play your way.”

You play a good game but it isn’t enough. You don’t fair any worse than last time really, if anything you are learning his play style but you know it will still be a while before you actually manage to beat him at this. But you like the challenge and that was the point. Things that were easy were no fun and your losses didn’t seem to inhibit your ability to get what you wanted, which was time and conversation with the man in front of you. You can see you are going to lose a good few moves before you do and so concede to the inevitable, gracefully accepting your defeat. At least you had been a worth adversary and as before, you hadn’t made his victory easy.

“Good game, you learn fast,” he says as he begins to pack away the pieces.

“Not fast enough, but tomorrow is another day and I am always up for a challenge,” you reply, helping by passing him the pieces you’d taken. “So, what’s your question?”

Dr Wells remains silent as he folds the board and puts the chess set to one side. Leaning his elbows on the table he removes his glasses and looks at you as if weighing something up. You briefly wonder if he is picking a question but think you know him well enough to presume he already knew what he was going to ask. You find yourself mimicking his body language shuffling forward on your chair, waiting for what he is going to say.

“It’s ok, you can ask anything, I won’t be offended,” you say, not sure that you need to but wanting to be reassuring.

Dr Wells tilts his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours, “You’re a remarkable women Y/N, will you have dinner with me?”

You feel your cheeks flush hot but have no trouble finding your voice. “Are you asking me out on a date, Dr Wells?” you reply, barely able to contain your glee.

Dr Wells smiles widely as he nods slowly, looking you over, “That is _exactly_ what I am doing.”

“Yes!” you exclaim, then trying to calm yourself somewhat, “Yes, I would love to have dinner with you.”

“Tonight?” he asks hopefully.

“Su…oh…no wait. I’m so sorry but I can’t, not tonight,” you say, rapidly trying to explain why and wishing you hadn’t checked your phone this morning. “I promised my friend that I would be a plus one for a dinner she is attending tonight,”

He leans forward and takes your hand, “I can’t convince you otherwise,”

Your breath hitches as you meet his gaze, those brilliant blue eyes imploring you to comply. You want so badly to say yes, to just tell Grace that something came up and you couldn’t go but you just can’t do it. It goes against all your values. You look at his hand on yours, his thumb caressing your wrist, and then back up to his eyes and state your case, “If I break my promise to her, then what good are all the promises I made you?”

He concedes with a nod and a look of understanding, “Of course, tomorrow then?”

“Yes, tomorrow’s good,” you confirm, still sure that you are smiling too much.

He relinquishes your hand but not before kissing it. It all seems to happen in slow motion as you watch his lips make contact with your skin, the electric tingle of his touch delightful. It takes all your self-control to not act upon all the inappropriate ideas that are surfacing in your mind, causing you to bite your lower lip. You take a deep breath, quieting your mind as he puts his glasses back on, trying to retain some sort of sensible front. “I should get back to work,” you say as you stand, aware that it’s both true and that you really need some time to process things. Or at least stop yourself glowing.

“Before you go; as you know I’m a private person Y/N, and I would like to keep this…” he makes a gesture meaning the both of you, “separate from the team.”

You understand. You can see why secrecy would be sensible both in terms of dating your boss and for the hero side of things. No distractions or favouritism, keeping work and play separate. “I’m not about to change my Facebook status,” you reply jovially, then serious, “But yes, I know and understand. I’m perfectly capable of remaining professional,”

“Good, I knew my trust was well placed. And as for your earlier question, shrapnel causing extensive nerve and muscle damage, a lot of reconstructive surgery. Now, I should stop distracting you from your work,” he says with a smile as he goes back to the work station

You can feel Dr Well’s gaze lingering on you as you leave but you don’t turn round to check. Once back in your lab you close your door behind you and fall into your chair, spinning it. Well you were right. He was flirting and now you had a date, a proper date. You smile widely, now able let all the joy surface and even let out a small happy noise before laughing at yourself for being just a little bit silly. And it was tomorrow night! You suddenly realise that you have nothing to wear and start to mentally flick through your wardrobe. You had reserved your usual little black dress for the dinner tonight and you couldn’t wear it two nights in a row. However perhaps something a little more modest would be more suitable for a first date. You didn’t even know where you were going yet. Where could you go considering the general public opinion of him, plus wanting to keep things secret? Dr Wells had been quite the public figure before the explosion and then after but for all the wrong reasons. You certainly didn’t want to end up in the paper, even it was just the local. You shake those problems from your mind, trusting that whatever Dr Wells had planned would be suitable. Though you still wish you had longer to find a nice outfit. That was odd actually now that you thought about it. It was short notice. It would have been tonight if not for seeing Grace. Most people waited till the weekend. Well, regardless of the reason at least he was keen. Maybe that was it? Because he had lost someone before he wasn’t willing to wait about? Plus he had answered your question about his injuries. You hadn’t expected that but it was nice to know he was comfortable with sharing such things.

The rest of the working day goes fast mainly due to your good mood and having plenty to do. You consider working from the Cortex but realise that right now you’d probably get very little actually done. Work came first, that had always been your way and if that meant that you had to stay in your lab so you could concentrate then that was what you would do. At 6pm your phone reminds you that you need to go home, earlier than usual but necessary if you want to get ready and make the dinner with Grace. You pack up your stuff, set your machines as needs be for overnight work, incubation or cleaning and make your way out. You look into the Cortex on your way but find it empty. It doesn’t bother you though and soon enough you are on your bike, zipping across the city on the way home.

*             *             *

The night had been great fun. You had forgotten just how much of a laugh Grace could be. The free drinks all evening didn’t hurt either, though you had been careful to be merry rather than drunk. Which was more than could be said for some of the patrons who seemed to have passed drunk half way through the evening. As things were coming to a close, despite Grace’s offers of sharing her hotel bed (platonically), you decide to grab a cab. The event had provided transport and for that you are thankful. You didn’t want to wait considering how late, well early, it was now. You say fond goodbyes to Grace, swearing that you’ll have to do this again as she sees you into your cab. The driver takes your address and the car zooms off into the night.

Bored of the dark lack of scenery that the outskirts of the city provide you take out your phone, noticing you’ve got a text.

_'Sorry I missed you. We’ll discuss plans tomorrow. Have a great night. H.W.'_

That makes you smile. You grip your phone and lean back, happy in your fog of possibilities and alcohol. It’s the loud noise that startles you first, you hear the sound of horns only moments before the impact. Suddenly the world is spining and for a moment all gravity seems non-existent until the second impact, this time on your side and everything goes black.

Smoke, so much smoke. Your lungs feel like they are on fire as you cough. Blurred shapes come into view and just as you are trying to make sense of it all a great wave of pain engulfs you. It’s not just your head that feels it, but your whole body feels broken. Glass? There is glass everywhere and things there that shouldn’t be. You try to remember but your mind is a fog. Around you is nothing but darkness lit dimly multi-coloured by the tiny blinking lights in the front. Moving hurts. Blood pounds in your ears and you realise that it’s because you’re upside-down. You look to the driver through the haze that is your vision but he isn’t moving. Blood drips into your eyes and another wave of pain hits you, flooding your senses, causing you to cry out and cough. Panic wells up and suddenly you are screaming for help, tears flowing freely now as you try to free yourself but one hand hurts and the other arm is trapped. So much of the car is crumpled around you. Your phone! You remember, and still crying out you reach to see if you can find it. Your hand is numb and not working properly but you try to feel around. You find something that could be your phone and just press against it as best you can. The pain in your hand causing you to cry more. Calling degenerates into coughing which is hard upside-down and only causes your lungs to burn more. You’re convinced you’re going to die, this is how it ends. If the pain isn’t serious then the smoke inhalation is.

Consciousness starts to ebb as your hearing fades out, replaced with a high pitch whining noise. Focusing becomes even harder but something is moving. At first you think it is just your mind but things are most definitely moving. A rescue team? It’s hard to concentrate as you drift in and out from the pain. In one of your more lucid moments you hear a low base noise just before the car door disappears, night air rushing in to your thankful lungs. You gasp for breath as you try desperately to focus on the figure in front of you but all you see is a yellow blur. He speaks but you can't make it out, you try to reply but can't even tell if you are coherent. Between the pain and concussion you have barely any concept of reality let alone time and yet you are suddenly out of the car. The movement reignites your pain and you cry out, darkness creeping in from the edges of your vision.

Everything from then on is a blur, a haze of memories from your fleeting lucid moments. A loud noise, the feeling of speed, a voice, the soothing feeling of someone stroking your hair, bright lights, voices, shouting, more pain, more voices, oblivion...


	9. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I have been away, but I am back now and will be continuing and finishing this story. I would love to say that I will update frequently but sometimes that is not possible, so I'm trying for once a month, more if I feel inspired.

Senses slowly come back to you as you drift towards consciousness. It isn’t a sudden waking but a gentle cascade of perceptions, the first being that you are still alive. Your awareness flows through your body pinpointing both pain and your surroundings. Soft warmth envelops you and you know you are in a bed, but something is wrong, your movement restrained somewhat. Pain starts to nag at you making you suddenly very aware of your left leg, it feeling heavy and aching, bound and immovable. Other aches cry out for your attention but you are distracted by the feeling of violation, invasion. This is what makes your eyes snap open. The hospital room you expected, the tubes in your flesh and up your nose however cause panic. An alarm goes off as you try to sit up, trying to free yourself but your body doesn’t respond properly and you are stunned by pain.

Suddenly two figures burst into the room, kindly nurses full of reassurances as they try to settle you. You let them do their job by resisting very little, not that you have the strength to put up a proper fight, as they remove the tubes from your airways. You gasp loudly, the sensation of filling your lungs properly a brief relief before the sensation of being kicked in the chest. You cry out and cough which burns your already raw throat. Breathing hurts no matter how much you modify it but at least you are alive.

The male nurse offers to help you into a sitting position as the other explains what happened to you. She goes on to say that you were in a car accident and you instinctively know she is right even if you can’t quite focus on the idea. She lists a few of your injuries but soothes you with how well you are recovering. Memories knock at the door of your mind, things half formed, just feelings and the flicker of images. You give nods of understanding and the occasional pained words as the nurses confirm your details. And then you are alone. You’ve been told that a doctor will be round to assess you soon and that they have contacted your next of kin. It occurs to you that you have no idea what day it is or how long you have been there. What if you’d been in a coma!? You chide yourself for such dramatic thoughts and resolve to simply ask the doctor when he comes round.

Leaning back into your pillow you close your eyes and try to make some sense of things as the drip of painkillers does its work. You can remember leaving Grace and getting a taxi but then things get fuzzier. Just a sense of the situation, smoke being the primary thing that comes to mind. Just thinking about it makes you uncomfortable. Everything is a blurry jumble and just as you are starting to pull at it your eyes snap open with a realisation. A current thought intruded on your reminiscing and you find yourself looking at the vase of flowers on the table by the bed. A beautiful bunch of yellow roses that are obviously not just hospital flowers. You smile with the presumption that Dr Wells must have sent them. At least that meant he knew where you were and that you hadn’t just disappeared. You feel a pang of guilt as you know you must have missed your dinner date, though you are sure that a car accident is a forgivable circumstance.

You are awoken from a brief nap by the doctor. He explains to you your injuries and how long it will take to recover. At least you will be out in time for Christmas, though you might have to do all of your shopping online. He goes on to explain the procedures you have had and how your leg is broken. You nod and eventually ask the obvious question of cost only to discover that it has already been paid. This confuses you as you are pretty sure that you have to sign papers to claim on the insurance but he reassures you that it is already all paid for, including the private room you currently reside in. Lastly he tells you to get some rest and that you can visitors tomorrow. He is about to leave when you pipe up, asking where you belongings are. The doctor points to the cabinet by the bed and you smile a thank you.

As soon as he is gone you start to check your movement, seeing if you can shift enough to get into the cabinet and get your stuff without having to call a nurse to do it for you. Gently you manage it and retrieve your purse. Opening it you find what you had hoped for yet not expected, your phone. There is a charging hub on the bedside cabinet and you plug the charred, cracked shell of a phone into it. The charging light flickers on and you have never been so happy to see the tiny red light. The wait for it to charge is excruciatingly boring. You flick on the television having found the remote next to the charger. Watching the news brings you nothing new and you are fairly thankful that Central city is currently quiet. However it doesn’t help with your boredom. Neither does the medication you are on and you know you are cognitively impaired at the moment, unable to concentrate or think quickly.

Half an hour passes at a snail’s pace as you start to drift in and out of sleep. In one of the less dazed moments you look sideways and see a blue blinking light. Struggling against your own mind to be able to concentrate, you pick up the phone, eager to read the messages. The cracked screen only makes it more difficult for you to read but slowly you manage it.

_Grace: Thanks for being great company. We must do this again soon._

It was a good night and you reply such, though very briefly, telling her that you’d talk to her soon. You’ve never taken so long to type out a message before but you get there eventually. As much as Grace was a wonderful friend, if you told her what had happened she would take time off and come look after you, blaming herself and you didn’t want to put her through that.

_Dr Wells: Everything has been taken care of. Get some rest and I’ll see you soon. H._

A smile manifests and you can’t help but feel reassured by the message. You are almost embarrassed by how much you really want to see him right now, but then you have never felt quite so vulnerable before. But you figure nearly dying is enough to shake most people. Continuing to check your messages you see that there are more from the team. All of them wishing you well and promising to visit and bring you things, their trip to Star city obviously successful. Typing out a mass message of thanks is awkward with your currently uncoordinated fingers, but sending it brings a sense of satisfaction. Your body decides that it is enough for one day and soon you are drifting back into the land of sleep.  


End file.
